


Arrangements

by nonnie325 (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/nonnie325
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In honour of Father's Day, I decided to write some parentlock. Sherlock and John's daughter goes to prom. Reference for the dress: http://books-on-tables.tumblr.com/post/53170906766/reference</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrangements

"Absolutely not." 

John closed his eyes against the groan that came from his daughter and shook his head as she stomped back into the dressing room. He pinched the bridge of his nose when the door slammed behind her. 

"Ohh, god," he whispered. 

"John, do calm down," Sherlock said. Currently his partner was draped over one of the chairs set out for customers, scrolling through his phone and only looking up when Sophia came out in yet another dress to seek approval from her fathers. 

"Sherlock, did you see how short that last dress was? It wasn't even a dress, it was a long shirt!" 

A rustling came from inside the dressing room and John stepped to the side as the dress in question came flying toward him, just barely catching it before it hit the ground. 

"I _can_ hear you, you know!" Sophia muttered.

"I know you can!" John shot back, shaking out the dress and shoving it back onto its hanger. "So I expect you not to walk out here in anything that length or shorter!" 

An audible huff came from behind the door and John sank into the chair beside Sherlock, deflating.

"How did we get here, again?" He asked the the ceiling. Sherlock answered. 

"I never did understand the appeal of the promenade," he murmered, "but she seems rather excited about it." 

John was silent for a moment, then leaned closer to the detective and said very quietly, "You did the background check?" 

"Of course," Sherlock replied. "On the boy, his immediate family, the grandparents, and first and second cousins. No more than a few traffic violations." 

"Keep your voice down!" John hissed, but then nodded and righted himself in his chair. "Right. Good." 

A few more moments of silence passed, the only sound being the click of the buttons on Sherlock's phone. 

"I still don't trust him." 

Sherlock smirked. "I know you don't. Neither do I. No need to worry, though. I've made arrangements." 

"Arrangements? What--" 

Before John could finish, the door to the dressing room swung open again, and Sophia waltzed out in a flashy, bright blue number, only about an inch longer than the dress that came before it. It was strapless and the midriff was missing, only covered by a thin, white band of lace. John's jaw clenched. The next word that came out of his mouth was said in unison with Sherlock. 

_"No."_

________________________________________________________________________

After eight different shops, four shouting matches and a seemingly infinite number of dresses, the family of three arrived back home. Sophia, for the moment, was happy. The dress was very nice, John had to admit. It was a deep emerald colour, floor length with ruffles along the neckline and midriff. It was strapless and did hug her body in ways John didn't particularly care for, but when he saw his daughter's eyes light up and the way she sprinted toward it when they entered the shop, he caved. His only condition was that she wear a shawl to cover her shoulders, to which Sophia had pouted and said, _"If you had it your way, Dad, I'd be wearing a jumper and sweatpants!"_ and John had laughed and tried not to think about the fact that the shawl would most likely be left forgotten on a chair once she was out of her parent's sight. 

On the night of the event, Sophia was burning lines through the apartment, rushing here and there to get everything together and while John was trying desperately to keep it together himself, Sherlock was sitting perched on the couch, simply watching the scene unfold in front of him. Just as John was opening his mouth to berate Sherlock for not helping, Sophia appeared at his side and tugged sharply on his sleeve to get his attention. 

"Daaaaaaaaaad, I can't find my purse, _I'm going to be late!"_ she screeched, right into his ear, and Sherlock barely hid the smirk that flashed across his features. 

"Darling, it's by the door, I've set it out for you. Would you please calm down? You're not going to be late." 

She seemed to relax a bit at that, and let go of John's sleeve. She checked over herself again, making sure she had her wristband to get in the door and rushing into the bathroom once more to check her makeup and make sure not one dark ringlet of hair was out of place, then scurried round to the front door. 

"OkayI'mleavingdon'twaitup!" she called out over her shoulder and snatched up her purse, attempting to make a quick getaway, but John caught the handle before it closed. 

" _Sophia_ ," he started in a warning tone. Sophia's shoulders slumped and she sighed dramatically as she stepped back into the room. 

"Sherlock, get the camera." 

As John said this he placed a heavy hand on his daughter's shoulder, as if she might run off. Her eyebrows shot up and she made an awful, pained face. 

"Dad, no pictures!" 

"No arguments," he countered. She sighed again, louder this time, and threw her head back and groaned. John smiled and thought of just how much she resembled her Father when she pouted that way.

After a few pictures were taken and she was properly fussed over, ( _"Be safe, do not get into any car but the one that brought you, no alcohol, be back here by 1am - I mean it, young lady!"_ ), she gave John and Sherlock each a tight hug and once more made her way out the door, waving over her shoulder. As soon as the door shut behind her, John was at the window, staring down as Sophia came down the steps to the black car waiting for her. She opened the door, but before getting in, she turned and looked up at the building, and waved once more. John laughed and shook his head. He stood at the window, watching, until he couldn't see the car anymore, then collapsed into a chair. He scrubbed at his face and sighed deeply.

"She's going to be fine, John." Sherlock tried to reassure him, but John just nodded, unconvinced. He started to get up for tea when a thought occurred to him. 

"Sherlock, you never told me when we were shopping - what were you on about, "arrangements"? What did you d--" 

A shrill ringing interrupted him and Sherlock fished his phone out of his pocket and answered. 

"Ye--ahh!" 

He ripped the phone away from his ear when a shrill, shrieking voice came from the other end. It was so loud, John could hear it from clear across the room. 

_"IF YOU DON'T CALL OFF UNCLE MYCROFT'S MEN THIS INSTANT I WILL NEVER SPEAK TO EITHER OF YOU EVER AGAIN!"_

With that, the call dropped, and Sherlock straightened himself up, rubbing at his ear lightly to try and stop the ringing. 

"Well there you are," he said, clearing his throat. "I told you I'd made arrangements." 


End file.
